


I Won't Run Away

by Avynn_Marie



Category: Lethal Weapon (TV)
Genre: F/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:00:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14733989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avynn_Marie/pseuds/Avynn_Marie
Summary: Lethal Weapon FicClayne Crawford - Seasons One and Two based ONLY!  Don’t even get me started…Summary:A girl from Rigg’s past surfaces and they discover they’re both as screwed up as the other.  Alcohol, depression, PTSD…You name it, they’ve got it.  When feelings develop, will their past trauma stand in the way of healing one another…or will it be their downfall?Song inspiration for Title and Pic Quote:  I Won’t Run Away - Ashes RemainOriginal Characters:Aiden Gallagher - Main character opposite Martin Riggs  (pictured her as me in my head while writing - picture her as you wish with the descriptions given in story)Robby Anderson - Main character’s ex (Pictured as Stephen Amell)Mike Callahan - Main character’s friend/co-worker (Pictured as Dominic Purcell)Warnings:This is a whump fic.  There will be characters beaten to hell and back.  Some depression and PTSD flashbacks and suicidal dialog.  Read at your own caution.





	I Won't Run Away

## 

“You good to close up, Mike?"  I sighed lightly as I leaned on the doorway to the bar’s office, running my hand absently through my dark brown hair.  The metal door frame was cool against my bare arm as I gazed down at the man.

"Yeah I got it."  He smiled as he closed the safe and stood, turning to me.  His tall broad frame making the office look much smaller than it was.  "I’ll walk you out."  

I nod, grabbing my flannel and small cross-body bag off of the hook and met him at the front doors.

"You know you don’t have to walk me out each night."  I smirked as I stepped up behind him. 

"Oh don’t even start, Aiden."  Mike chuckled as he opened the door for me.  "There’s too many psychos around this part of town at night." 

"Yeah, but I’m a big girl."  I joked and lightly bumped his heavily muscled arm with my shoulder.

He barked out a laugh.  "Not as big as me, sweetheart.  You’re what?  All of 130 soaking wet?”

I giggled as my boots scuffed the sidewalk.  As much as I wanted to be tough, Mike was right.  Any creep on the street would have to think twice with him walking beside me.  He was tall, built to the nines with his wide jaw and shaved head…he was intimidating.  

Mike had taken me under his wing when I came to LA a while back looking for a job.  His bar needed the help and plus, he didn’t want me getting caught up in a shitty situation that most pretty girls end up in out here.  He was a sweetheart and with two daughters of his own, he couldn’t turn away the option of helping a girl like me out.

We headed around the corner to the small parking area next to the bar.  The cool air snaking around my legs.  Mike’s gaze scanned the surrounding streets for any movement in the shadows. 

I turned to him as we reached my jeep and smiled.  “Thanks, Mike.” I embraced him, wrapping my arms around his waist.  “You’re a good friend.”

Mike chuckled and pulled back, ruffling my hair with his large hand.  “See ya Sunday, kiddo.  Have fun at the barbeque tomorrow.”

I smiled as he back stepped, shoving his hands in his pockets.  “G'night, Mike.”

“Night."  He waited until I was safely in my jeep and pulling out of the lot onto the street before he made his way back to the bar. 

 

 

> _I walked into the house, closing and deadbolting the door behind me.  I dropped my bag on the hook in the entry way and tossed my keys onto the small table.  I stepped down the hall towards the bedroom when the kitchen light flicked on, stopping me in my tracks.  My gaze snapped to the right and landed on the figure in the middle of the kitchen, my heart pounding.  
>  _
> 
> _"I missed you, Aiden.”_
> 
> _**Robby…** _
> 
> _“No!"  I screamed as I took off down the hallway. **How could he be here?!  He’s in jail!  This isn’t happening!**_
> 
> _I reached for my cell in my shorts, but found nothing.  It was gone…as if it disappeared out of my pocket.  
>  _
> 
> _**Shit!** _
> 
> _I neared the corner of the hallway desperately trying to get to the landline in the dining room before he could.  A force slammed into my legs, knocking them out from under me as he came around the corner.  I crashed to the floor and quickly scrambled to get to my feet when his boot collided with my head, sending me backwards against the wall._
> 
> _**Wake up, Aiden!  Wake the fuck up!  This isn’t happening!**   My thoughts screamed as my vision spun._
> 
> _"You should’ve never opened your mouth!"  Robby’s hand dug into my hair, pulling me up from the floor and slamming my back against the wall.  "You stupid fucking whore!”_
> 
> _“This isn’t happening.  This isn’t happening.  Wake up!"  I whimpered as his face came into focus.  His ice blue eyes glaring at me with pure hatred as an evil grin spread across his face.  
>  _
> 
> _"Oh, it’s fuckin’ happening, sweetheart!"  He spat at me and lunged his right hand towards my stomach._
> 
> _A white hot pain pierced my midsection sending fire throughout my body.  My eyes widened in shock as his face was inches from mine.  He eased back and I looked down as he pulled a crimson knife from my body._
> 
> _"I told you I’d kill you for what you did to me.  You can’t hide from me."_
> 
> _My knees weakened and my body went numb as he lunged forward with the knife again._

 

"No!"  I screamed and flailed as I woke from the nightmare, tumbling off the bed in a tangled heap of sweat soaked sheets.  I panted frantically as I clutched my stomach where the knife had been in the dream.  The dull phantom ache of it still lingering.

I’ve had the same nightmare at least once a week since I’d testified against Robby, resulting in him being locked up for the next twenty years.  My shrink said it’s perfectly normal in these type of circumstances…but for three years?  

 _He’s locked up in max.  He’s 3 states away.  He can’t get to you.  You’re safe._   

I repeat in my head, trying to calm the shaking in my hands.  I absently reach up and trace the jagged scar running from my temple down to my jaw in front of my ear.  It seems to burn at my touch, bringing back memories I’ve tried to put behind me.  I shake my head, willing the images away.  Untangling myself I look over to my alarm clock…the bright red letters blazing back at me…530am.  I sigh and flop back against the side of the bed.  I’d only had a couple hours of sleep since my shift at the bar.  Deciding that it was useless to try and get any more sleep, I hauled myself to my feet.  

_Well… time for whiskey and some paint therapy._

I head over to the spare bedroom that I'd turned into my art studio.  The floors covered with old flat sheets, stacks of fresh canvases tipped against one wall, finished pieces tucked in protective boxes ready to be sold against another and my large easel in the center with a fresh canvas.  Aside from the bar, I had a part time afternoon shift at a local coffee shop and in my spare time, I created and sold paintings.  Some were hung in the coffee shop advertised for sale, and every few months I did a small showing downtown.  That’s where I’d first met Trish Murtaugh.  Her daughter, Riana, was a regular at the coffee shop in the afternoons when she got out of school.  She’d eyed my paintings and had brought her mother to one of my showings.  Trish had fallen in love with my art immediately.  I was more of an abstract emotional artist.  Most of it consisted of blacked out female silhouettes, some profiles, some full body, with bright colors splattered, slashed or dripped down around them.  I also dabbled in realistic portraits and some custom commissioned work.

Today?  Today called for some paint throwing.  

I grabbed my bottle of whiskey and downed a shot, slamming it down on the table.  I popped a can of paint open without looking at the color and reached my fingers in, coating them in the bright purple liquid.   I stepped about five feet in front of the canvas….and flung my hand toward it like I was throwing a baseball.  

I got lost.  My mind blank with whiskey buzz and zoned in on the task at hand.  Grabbing random colors and splattering them against the sheer white background of the canvas.  The paint slightly dripping and mixing together to form its own shade.  I was in my element.  Lost in my own universe as the world around me ceased to exist.  

After a while I stepped back a moment, gazing at the splattered canvas in front of me.  The contrasting splotches of neon colors scattered across the face of it.  It needed something.  I set the can of paint down and stomped the few feet to the canvas.  I drug my fingers through the wet paint, creating swirls and spirals in strategic order around the piece.  I eyed it for another moment, gauging its story.  Satisfied with my work, I wiped my hands clean on a rag and downed another shot of whiskey, plopping down in the corner of the room.  I sighed and leaned my head back against the wall and gazed out the side window at the rising sun.  A new day had begun.

 

* * *

 

I had managed to catch a few more hours of shut eye thanks to Mr. Daniels, when I was awoken from a text alert.  

_Shit, what time was it?!_

I fumbled for my phone on the nightstand as I sat up against the headboard.  

1130AM  

_Oops, guess I got more than just a few hours.._

I rubbed my eyes as I opened my Messages.

**Trish: You’re still coming today right?  
**

**Yes.  Wouldn’t miss it.  You need me to bring anything?  
**

**Trish:  Just yourself! :)  I can’t wait for you to meet everyone.  
**

**Awesome.  I’ll see you then!**

I locked my phone and tossed it on the bed as I stretched my stiff muscles.  I had two hours before I had to be at the Murtaugh’s.  Thank god Trish had texted me.

 

* * *

 

I eased my Wrangler at the curb across from the Murtaugh residence.  I felt weird not bringing anything to the barbecue but Trish insisted, and from what I’d gathered so far in our friendship, you don’t argue with her.  I glanced around at the few cars in the driveway and along the street as I stepped out onto the pavement.  At least I wasn’t the first one here…that’s always a little awkward.  I made my way across the street as I heard laughter coming from the backyard.  Assuming everyone was outside, I let myself in the side gate.  As I rounded the side of the house I was greeting by a decent sized group.  Some teenagers Riana’s age but majority were adults that most likely worked with Trish or her husband, Roger.  

"Hey!  You made it!"  Riana bounded off of the deck to me, embracing me in an excited hug.  I laughed and hugged her back.  "Mom’s inside grabbing some more wine.  Come on!"  She grabbed my hand with a big smile on her face as she led me over to the grill.  "Dad!"  

A man looked up from the grill at her call and he smiled as he stepped to us.  "Ah, this must be the famous Aiden I’ve heard so much about.  Roger."  He held out his hand to me.  I took his hand and smiled, laughing off his comment.   His eyes darted to my scar and quickly back to my gaze, his smile only faltering slightly before he recovered. 

"Nice to meet you."  I said as I released his hand.

"Likewise.  Trish has shown me some of your work.  You’re really talented."  

"Thank you."  I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.  I was never one that accepted praise very well.

"Oh!"  Trish’s voice sounded from the deck behind us.  "I’m so glad you could make it!"  She stepped down and handed Roger a plate of burgers before embracing me.  "You want something to drink?”

“Sure."  I glanced around at the coolers lining the deck.  

"There’s beer in the coolers and wine inside."  She smiled and turned slightly to Roger, dropping her voice to a heated whisper.  "Is he coming?  Where is he?”

“I don’t know he said he’d be here."  Roger wasn’t as quiet as his wife so I was still able to catch the conversation…and then it hit me.

"Oh, god, Trish.  Tell me you’re not trying to set me up with someone?"  I smirked and crossed my arms over my chest.

Both her and Roger snapped their attention back to me.  Roger looked guilty as hell and Trish plastered on a mischievoussmile.  "I-I wouldn’t call it ‘setting you up.'  More of … just a friendly introduction.”

“Ugh."  I sighed and dropped my head back chuckling.  "While I appreciate the offer…I’m not looking to date anyone right now."  I gave her a small smile.

I hadn’t opened up to her yet about my past.  This was the first time aside from my art gallery shows that we'd actually hung out.  We’d become friends but not to the point yet of sharing our deep secrets.  I’d caught her and Riana eyeing my scar each time we’d seen each other, but they both had the respect to not ask about it.  I just wasn’t ready to share that dark part of my history yet with anyone.

"I’m not asking that you read anything into it.  He’s a great guy.  A little rough around the edges but-”

Trish was cut off by a commotion from the side yard at the corner of the deck.

“Aw, you guys didn’t have to wait for me to get here!  Let’s get this party started!"  A loud male voice echoed through the yard.

"Speak of the devil."  Roger muttered as Trish threw me a smile before moving behind me towards the man.  

"Martin!  I’m glad you came!  Come here, I’d like you to meet someone."  I turned as Trish laced her arm through the man’s and guided him over toward me.

I froze.  

Martin stopped abruptly when I’d turned to face them.  Trish didn’t seem concerned and stopped with him, smiling as she motioned for me to come forward.  Martin removed his sunglasses and his shocked amber gaze bore into me.  Everything around me seemed to stop as my pulse pounded in my ears as our eyes remained locked with each other.

"Martin, this is my friend-"  Trish began.

Martin breathed out in disbelief, cutting her off.  “Aiden..?”


End file.
